


(After Lil' Nugget) Miss You

by LizardWhisperer



Series: Lil' Nugget Series [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crying, Dean doesn't like change, Dean's a buddy, Memories, Nightmares, Past parent-child relationship, Sam's wicked smaht, pre-destiel, the slow burn...continues to burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:38:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizardWhisperer/pseuds/LizardWhisperer
Summary: Just a drabble, really--because I miss my Lil' Nugget.  Started out as one thing and as my writing often does, became another thing, entirely.If you miss Nugget, too, you'll enjoy it.There's a surprise at the bottom.If you're looking for passionate Destiel, you're barking up the wrong fic.





	(After Lil' Nugget) Miss You

Castiel--powerful Angel of Lord, smiter of demons, monsters, and fellow-angels alike--once looked so cute asleep, in his footie pj's, little arms wrapped around his plaid-covered bear, that Dean Winchester snapped 20 pics of the scene, on his cell.  
Lying awake, on stale motel sheets, with his brother softly snoring nearby, Dean scrolled through the series, pausing again to study the moist, plump lips, slightly parted and drooling on his SpongeBob pillowcase. The hunter marveled at the soft lines of the child's face, the dimples on his knuckles, the renegade dark hair--refusing to stay put, no matter what goop was dumped on it. As the image suddenly zoomed, Dean cursed under his breath, scolding himself for absently trying to feel those locks on the digital image--again.  
Having Castiel back in all his full-sized angel glory had been a huge asset to the brothers' hunting life. Cas' extra strength and celestial powers had saved The Winchesters' lives more than once, as well as the people they had set out to save themselves. Cas could be wherever they needed him to be, take the hunters places instantly, and locate friends and enemies, beyond their reach. The angel could fly, communicate with Heaven, end a demon with a touch, and with the same touch, heal a wounded Winchester. Castiel, the angel, was an irreplaceable asset, that neither brother would trade for anything--or anyone else.  
Nonetheless, in quiet moments Dean had to himself, the hunter would indulge in the warm feelings of caring for a powerless little human Cas. Reality and common sense told Dean that gaining back that feeling would cost them their angel--and all that meant to the hunt--and also, Dean's best friend.

So taken aback at discovering a distraught little bundle of ex-angel in their bunker, at first, the brothers had no idea how to treat him. This was Cas, but not Cas--fluent in Latin, as well as hundreds of other languages, a wealth of knowledge of heaven, Hell, and everything in-between. He knew The Winchesters, inside and out--had fought beside them, watched them fail and triumph, cause catastrophes and save the world. But the first time this compact version tripped and split his lip on the edge of a table, this very same walking encyclopedia had been reduced to sobs and wailing, like the Apocalypse had been restarted. Little Castiel was a conundrum.  
Sam was quicker to find his stride in Cas' new life. From his towering height, he looked at their young charge as just that--young. From that first split lip, Sam knew what was up, when Cas refused to hold the icepack himself and insisted, "You do it." Dean had hung back from the tears a bit, patting Cas' back, as the boy sat sniffling on Sam's knee and providing words of encouragement--words that he was later informed were "buddy talk."

"C'mon, Sam, what's wrong with telling the kid he looks cool? Did you see, he kinda smiled when I said I'd help him make up a good fight story."  
"Oh, yeah, you mean the smile that caused him to start bleeding, again?"  
Dean's face fell, momentarily, then he plunked down his beer bottle, announcing, "I'm not gonna baby him, Sam. Cas wouldn't want--"  
"He's a child, Dean. When he's upset, he just wants to feel better--to know he's OK."  
Dean took a pull off his bottle, shaking his head, "You think a little blood is anything to him, after what he's seen?"  
Sam leaned his elbows on the table, fixing his brother with a patent bitchface. "He. Was. Scared. The blood scared him, Dean. He might remember being Castiel, but he feels things like a kid, now. We have a kid, now, Dean.”  
Dean began to shake his head again, contemplating his comeback, when a piercing cry sounded from down the hall. What ensued was the aftermath of Cas' first nightmare episode. As comforting as Sam had been earlier to Cas, the angel was beside himself--and only wanted Dean. It was a long night of first walking and shushing Cas around the bed, then up and down the hallway, then through most of the bunker, trying Dean-style to calm and reassure his friend that his nightmare was over. After their earlier words, Sam was left feeling his brother would forever treat the tiny cherub like the BAMF angel once by his side. But as the evening of tears, wet pj's, and cuddles wore on, Sam quietly watched Dean's attitude toward their charge transform, as his brother dropped the inappropriate jokes and spoke quiet words into Cas' sweaty hair. "Ssshhh, Nugget," the epithet was used frequently, "I got you." After tossing Dean's sheets in the wash, Sam found his brother in the library, rocking a now quiet Cas against his chest, the two stretched out sideways across an old leather recliner. Sam stood speechless, the pair's back to him, listening to his big brother's deep voice, gently singing Stairway to Heaven, just above Cas' shaggy mop.   
For sometimes days on end, their father would be away on the hunt. Dean was the first father Sam had known. While John Winchester somehow provided the money for the things they needed and the places they stayed, it was Dean--still a child himself--who raised Sam. Watching his brother now, Sam wondered if Dean's reluctance to "baby" Cas had been more a sign of his resistance to accept the loss of his adult friend and less of his reluctance to return to the responsibility of caring for someone so helpless.  
"There's these things called 'cameras'--they let you steal the moment, so you can sit the Hell down."  
Sam broke from his nostalgia, clearing his throat and having a seat, opposite the recliner. Also keeping his voice low, Sam said, "You know, Dean--you don't suck at that."  
Dean glanced down at the now sleeping boy, wrapped in his flannel shirt and made a pout, "Never said I did--said I didn't think Cas wanted it."  
Sam laughed and swayed his head, "I see he's proved you--"  
"Wrong. I know, Sam--I was wrong. Just don't want to do anything he'll be pissed about--you know, later, when he's big."  
Sam smiled warmly, comforted by his brother's predictability, "Yeah, something tells me we're gonna be living in the moment, with this. Dad wanted me to be raised a hunter, but Dean, you worked hard to let me have a childhood."  
"I didn't get one."  
"I know, I know that, Dean. It's what makes what you did for me even more...special."  
Dean sighed, "It's been a long, sticky, sweet night, Samantha. Thanks for rolling my tender feelings in light, powdery sugar--they'll go great with this little bon-bon I got, here."  
Sam clapped his hands together and rubbed what was left of the moment away, rising to his full height. "I'm gonna catch some shut-eye. Your mattress is drying--you staying here?"  
Dean snuggled down further into the leather seat, gathering his shirt tighter around the toddler snoring against his chest. "I don't dare move, Sam. Ya think he might have just a little angel left in there? I mean, is it even possible for a kid to cry over four hours? Or am I just that rusty at this?"  
Sam leaned down and kissed the ruff of hair, sticking out of Dean's shirt. "Poor kid--must have been a Hell of a nightmare." Not wanting to further disturb his brother's chick-flick senses, Sam nonetheless dared "You did, good, Dean"--over his shoulder, on the way out.

In a Kentucky motel room, Dean swiped his eyes, closing the picture app on his phone and shaking off the vivid memories. His instincts made him start at a sound beside him, then relaxing his grip on the gun under his pillow, he told his angel, "There's these things called 'cameras'--they let you steal the moment, so you can sit the Hell down."  
"Hello, Dean. My apologies. You seemed...occupied."  
Dean shrugged off whatever Cas had seen, sitting up in his bed, lifting the covers, and inviting Cas to join him. As the angel shucked off his shoes and coats, Sam opened one eye, waving sleepily from the other bed. "Bodies taken care of? Thanks for doing that, we're both whipped." Sam's hand fell to the mattress beside him, as he returned to even breathing.

Big Cas had instantly lost most of little Cas' childish behaviors when he re-aged, but one thing he never shook was his propensity for cuddling. The Winchesters knew it should have felt awkward, or at least have needed some deep discussion, but the angel's regular behavior of snuggling into either brother's bed (Dean's more often) was seen as not only natural, but healthy, by the trio.

As Cas hunkered down beside Dean, the hunter wrapped his arms around his angel, squeezing him to his chest. "Miss you."  
"I was gone two hours," chuckled Cas, his voice muffled in Dean's tee.  
"Yeah, I know," Dean tried to hide a sniffle in his pillow.  
They stayed like that, squished together in silence, for a while.  
"Dean, you meant you missed 'little me,' didn't you?"  
After a beat, Dean loosened his grip, to better meet Cas' gaze, in the gloomy room. "Um, can it be both?"  
Cas' stare didn't waver, "I don't see why not."  
Cas propped himself up on an elbow, "Sometimes, I miss little me, too. Not the fear, not that. But we had fun. And it was so easy to laugh. Remember the park, with the seahorse on the big spring? You rode it and Dean, you made me laugh so hard, I wet myself."  
Dean was laughing himself, now, "Yeah, Sammy was kinda pissed. We were supposed to meet him for lunch, but instead we went to the thrift store to get you more pants."  
Cas tossed back his head and snickered, "That poor old man, trying to show me how a Victrola worked. We got in an argument when he insisted it was named for Queen Victoria. I kept shouting the real history at him, so you had to carry me out, over your shoulder."  
Dean now used his pillow to muffle his cackles, remembering the incensed toddler, brandishing his chubby fist at the store owner.  
"And-and when you convinced Sammy to take you in that pet store because they had to know the 'mated pair' of parrots in the window were both boys? Or that guy in the parade, making the huge bubbles--some of the other kids were scared, but you jumped right inside them--even took that shy boy's hand and helped him jump in. You were a good kid, Cas."  
"I only jumped in because you told me it would be alright. You were a good--you were good, too, Dean."  
"Thanks, Cas. I do miss...it. You. But it's helped to talk."  
"I'm, glad, Dean, " Cas landed a hand on Dean's shoulder.  
Dean toyed with Cas' blue tie a moment, then, "And I-- I miss big you, too. When you're not here."  
"Here? In this hotel room?"  
"Nooo, here, like...near. Like, with me."

"NNnnggggaaarrrrrhhh!"  
Across the room, Sam slammed his pillow down over his head.

"You suck at THIS, Dean."

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Beautiful art by the incomparable Reafre 

[](https://imgur.com/PqTpiRm) https://youfoundmykeys.tumblr.com/tagged/reafrewings


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